


Fat Tongue

by EvelynFire



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Drugs, Hannibal - Freeform, Will Graham - Freeform, experimental writing style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynFire/pseuds/EvelynFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In fulfillment of the Imagine your OTP prompt:<br/>"Person A is baking cookies and has to split their attention between watching the timer and fighting off Person B, who keeps trying to steal cookie dough from the bowl."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fat Tongue

“Don’t touch that.” Hannibal said to Will reaching his hands to the whisk that whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr in the stand mixer, saved his fingers from mangling.  
He took the top of Will’s hand between his fingers “Sit on the stool.” he pointed with the other hand.  
Will backed up a foot but still had eyes fixed on the shiny metal and faint pastel meringue. “I just, want…” Will tried to talk but his tongue was huge, his lips were small and could not work in tandem. Tears for the words that he held a funeral for in his fat tongued mouth.  
“Don’t cry.”  
Will pushed his impeccably clean fingers towards the mixer still whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  
Hannibal light smack on the hand. “Come.” He ordered.  
Will whined in his throat, small drool spots where his tongue kept the lips open and ready for words words words words words.  
“Come.” firm words words words. Hannibal with two fingers pinching Will’s hand as though to meet them through his skin. 

THROUGH THE DOOR, OFFICE, DRAWER, NEEDLE, SYRINGE. SKIN, WILL’S SKIN PENETRATED LIKE AN ANIMAL WITH A RABIES SHOT, IT’S SAFER FOR EVERYONE THIS WAY.  
So Will stopped thinking. He didn’t care about his fat fucking tongue, and didn’t try for words words anymore.  
Dragging Will, by the arm now, must use an arm for someone who doesn’t want to use feet.  
“SIT.” Hannibal firm firm firm.  
Will. eye. mixer  
Hannibal’s glance. Threatening “DON’T TRY IT OR ELSE.”  
Turn the mixer up, now it’s REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. SOFT FUCKING TONES UNDERNEATH LIKE FACTORIES OF BEARINGS THAT KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THEY ARE DOING. 

 

Someone once asked if my tongue was too big for my mouth, I told them I have an open bite from sucking my thumb into adolescence, but it led me to find out I do have a large tongue and I can touch my nose with it. 

 

Will’s slumping more than he was now, he’s lost control of his bladder pissing all over himself. Hannibal can smell it, and he hates it. His merengue is destroyed, it’s gone past firm into watery soupy mess.  
Hannibal lifts the arm of the mixer, undoes the beater, and brings the mixing bowl to Will.  
Fingers in past his lips, press down on that fat wet tongue. Will’s losing consciousness now but it’s okay if he dies, he just has to drink the mixture he ruined first.

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal has been dosing Will with a melange of sedatives, poisons, and hallucinogens.


End file.
